And. And can this be earnest?

Mir. It seems so, and she honest.

Bri. Have I not thy promise, Lilly?

Lil. Yes, and I have performed enough to a man of your years, this is truth; and you shall find, Sir, you have kiss’d and tous’d me, handl’d my leg and foot; what would you more, Sir?  As for the rest, it requires youth and strength, and the labour in an old man would breed Agues, Sciatica’s, and Cramps:  You shall not curse me for taking from you what you cannot spare, Sir.  Be good unto your self, y’have ta’ne already all you can take with ease; you are past threshing, it is a work too boisterous for you, leave such drudgery to Andrew.

Mir. How she jeers him!

Lil. Let Andrew alone with his own tillage, he’s tough, and can manure it.

Bri. Y’are a quean, a scoffing, jeering quean.

Lil. It may be so, but I’m sure I’ll ne’r be yours.

Bri. Do not provoke me, if thou do’st I’ll have my Farm again, and turn thee out a begging.

Lil. Though you have the will, and want of honesty to deny your deed, Sir; yet I hope Andrew has got so much learning from my young Master, as to keep his own; at the worst I’ll tell a short tale to the Judges, for what grave ends you sign’d your Lease, and on what terms you would revoke it.

Bri.  Whore, thou dar’st not.  Yield, or I’ll have thee whipt:  how my Bloud boils, as if’t were o’re a Furnace!

Mir.  I shall cool it.

Bri.  Yet, gentle Lilly, pity and forgive me, I’ll be a friend t’ye, such a loving bountiful friend—­

Lil.  To avoid Suits in Law, I would grant a little; but should fierce Andrew know it, what would become of me?

And.  A Whore, a Whore!

Bri.  Nothing but well Wench, I shall put such a strong Bit in his mouth, as thou shall ride him how thou wilt, my Lilly; nay, he shall hold the door, as I will work him, and thank thee for the Office.

Mir.  Take heed, Andrew, these are shrewd temptations.

And.  Pray you know your Cue, and second me, Sir.  By your Worship’s favour.

Bri. Andrew!

And.  I come in time to take possession of th’Office you assign me; hold the door! alas, ’tis nothing for a simple man to stay without, when a deep understanding holds conference within, say with his Wife:  a trifle, Sir.  I know I hold my Farm by Cuckolds Tenure; you are Lord o’th’ Soil, Sir. Lilly is a Weft, a stray, she’s yours to use, Sir, I claim no interest in her.

Bri.  Art thou serious? speak, honest Andrew, since thou hast o’erheard us, and wink at small faults, man; I’m but a pidlar, a little will serve my turn; thou’lt find enough when I’ve my belly full:  Wilt thou be private and silent?